


The Comfort of Distance

by Valaxiom



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: A Sad Breakup Brunch, Angst and Feels, Asexuality, Canon Asexual Character, Character Study, Developing Relationship, Gen, Hopeful Ending, M/M, No Spoilers, Past Relationship(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-22
Updated: 2019-05-22
Packaged: 2020-03-09 12:20:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,138
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18916864
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Valaxiom/pseuds/Valaxiom
Summary: "Jonathan Sims had given up on relationships the day that he and Georgie Barker had had their cordial breakup."Also known as, "The Worst Brunch of Jonathan Sims' Life."





	The Comfort of Distance

**Author's Note:**

> You gotta write the fanfic that you want to see in the world, right? Anyway, as an asexual individual, I adore Jonathan Sims and can relate on an unhealthy number of levels. There are some extremely minor spoilers for season four below, but it's all as vague as I could make it while still generating sufficient angst.
> 
> Enjoy!

Jonathan Sims had given up on relationships the day he and Georgie had their cordial breakup

They had been getting brunch together, Jon recalled. His pancakes had come with the whipped cream on the side and her French toast had been thoroughly drowned in maple syrup before Georgie put her knife and fork down.

"Listen... Jon, I think we need to break up." Her voice was low and serious and completely at odds with the cheery background noise of a Sunday morning in a breakfast diner. Jon noticed her hand shaking, ever so slightly, as she took a sip of her water.

"Okay." He took a bite of his pancakes.

Georgie stared at him. "What? No rebuttals or anything?"

He finished chewing before answering, "Georgie, if you're unhappy or uninterested in our relationship, that is an acceptable reason for us to end it. I understand that I'm not the easiest person to be with, and I value our friendship more than... well, more than our current situation."

More staring. She took another sip of water. Jon noticed that she still hadn't touched her French toast. "Why aren't you upset about this? How are you so calm? I had this whole dramatic speech written out in my head, I've been agonising over this for weeks, and you say 'okay' like I've asked if you want to go to the cinema. Damn it, Jon, this is unsettling."

It was like there was a low buzzing inside his head, but Jon had become good at tuning that out. Tuning himself out. There was a large part of himself that was overcome with guilty relief, that she had ended it so he did not have to; that part of himself was currently grappling with the lonely part of himself that was dreading the empty apartment, the single toothbrush in the washroom, the too-large couch in the living room. The relief whispered that he wouldn't have to try anymore, wouldn't have to pretend that maybe he'd come around and be comfortable with sex. He wouldn't have to pretend to be whole.

There was also a more generous relief, that Georgie could move on and find someone she actually wanted to stay with-- Jon had known from the start that whatever they had was temporary. Who would want to stay with a partner that couldn't give them what other couples took for granted? Jon wasn't interested in sex, was uncomfortable at the very mention of it, and did not see that changing at any point in the future. It was the way he was, and that was that.

Georgie was still staring at him as he poured some partially-melted whipped cream on top of his pancakes. He knew that a full explanation wouldn't help, wouldn't assauge her guilt or make him seem worth staying for. Why would she expect him to be upset? This was, in a sad way, inevitable.

Jonathan Sims was alone, and that was fine.

The brunch ended quietly, Georgie picking at her frigid meal before paying for both of theirs and walking out.

Jon stared at his room-temperature cup of coffee and made a list of things he'd need to retrieve from Georgie's place. That part of his brain was the same part that was rationalising his own behaviour, excusing himself from hurting.

1\. His books. He'd left a pile of novels at Georgie's place, and some of them would be tricky or expensive to replace. (He'd miss reading next to her, the warm weight of another person anchoring him while his mind was occupied with fiction.)

  
2\. His favourite pair of socks. They were striped, and currently in with a batch of Georgie's laundry because she was running a load of dark clothes. (She'd gotten them for him on his birthday; the blue reminded her of the sea.)

  
3\. That half-finished pack of chocolate biscuits. She much preferred the oatmeal ones, and if he left the chocolate ones they'd only go stale. (He remembers her holding his hand in the market, for no reason. He asked why and she said it was because she was afraid that he wasn't able to make it back on his own. She'd said it teasingly, but there had been a slight crease in her forehead that indicated otherwise. He let her keep holding his hand.)

  
4\. His spare phone charger. Her phone was a different model, and leaving it there would only be another unnecessary reminder. (He regretted wasting her time.)

Jonathan was determined to slip out of her life like a ghost, because that was how he felt. The time they'd spent together had only confirmed his own asexuality (even if it had debunked his presumed aromanticism).

He'd miss her, of course. All the promises in the world wouldn't replace the awkwardness of remembered touches. Clumsy conversations would not remove the recollections of nights spent watching television together, cooking in cramped kitchens, or simply walking to the cornerstore together in the rain. Jon knew this, and accepted it stoically. It was all he knew how to do.

So years later, when Martin's blatant flirting began with cups of tea and chocolate biscuits, Jonathan's first response was distance. He remained as chilly and aloof as possible in the face of puppy-like affection, because he knew that Martin's overtures meant more than cozy evenings on the couch or going to cafes together. Romance was, by necessity, locked behind the insurmountable barrier of sexual intimacy, and Jon wasn't interested. He conveyed this disinterest through professionalism that bordered on cruelty, and if that hurt Martin, well, it would hurt him less than being tied to a partner that couldn't reciprocate a basic human behaviour. Martin deserved better, the same way that Georgie had deserved better, and Jon wasn't about to give Martin any kind of false hope.

Unfortunately, Jonathan Sims himself was not immune to the hope that came from long hours of desperate loneliness. It would have been nice, perhaps, to be held after the months of paranoia following Prentiss' attack. To have had someone to talk to after witnessing Elias's confession. To have had someone waiting for him when he woke from six months of nightmares, instead of yet another eldritch being with inconceivable motives.

It hurt even worse when he finally got back to the institute, gaunt and exhausted and so desperately in need of human contact, only to find that there was no one who wanted him back. Not even Martin. The distance that the Archivist had sought had finally been reached in the worst possible manner. His colleagues were wary of him and of each other, and all Jon could focus on was the fact that his tea wasn't nearly as good as the tea that Martin had brought him.

So he waited, and dared to hope that something would change.


End file.
